Kiss With A Fist
by British.Rainbows
Summary: Draco and Harry are both irritated upon seeing each other, but what if the thing that bothers them isn't what they originally thought? Years 1-7  will be used  mainly books  and it will be eventual boy on boy.  I don't know how much yet, sorry.
1. You hit me once

A/N: Hullo again. New 'verse for me. A few items of note:  
1)I do not, in any way, own these characters. (No matter how much I'd love to.) Nor do I own any of the dialogue used in this chapter.  
2) This is my first time writing with these characters. I apologise in advance if it sucks. I'll be trying to stick with the books more, but there are parts where I will inevitably be alluding to the movies. It's the problem for having me get into this so late in the game.  
3) (Finally) I'll be looking forward to any readings/reviews/comments, and I would aboslutely enjoy having a beta reader! Please message me if you're interesed. I have one, but I always think that the more you can have, the better.

* * *

-1-  
You hit me once

_"There's a drumming noise inside my head  
__That starts when you're around.  
__I swear that you could hear it  
__It makes such an almighty sound."  
__-Drumming Song ~ Florence and the Machine_

Harry felt it as soon as he saw that shock of platinum blonde hair in, what was it again, Madame Malkin's? Something like that. His brain was already on overload, which is why, he presumed, his head began pounding as soon as he saw the other boy. Placed next to him as they tried on robes, he attempted to converse with him over the loud noise in his head. He sounded rather like Dudley, spoilt and arrogant and just plain rude. He was grateful when Madame Malkin finished the other boy's fitting and watched as he left, the pounding of his head lessening with each step farther out of view he got. He enjoyed the rest of his day with Hagrid, learning all about this new world and still pondering that odd boy from earlier.

Draco heard the rumours. Although far, far above them, he heard the whispers that _the_ Harry Potter was on this train. Following the voices, although not alone- never alone, it wasn't right to have to walk all the way down the train by yourself when you were a _Malfoy_- he waltzed up to the compartment of the train that simply contained two boys. One, he presumed, was Harry, and the other had a shock of red hair which made it fairly obvious that he was a _Weasley._ He opened the door and entered with Crabbe and Goyle flanking him. "Is it true? They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment." He eyed Harry- or at least, he thought it was Harry- once, quickly, trying to ignore the pounding in his own head. "So it's you, is it?"

Harry stared at the boy. It was definitely the rude one from the robe shop, the one whose mouth spewed the most vicious of things. He ignored the throbbing in his head which began when he sighted the boy and answered him firmly. "Yes." Harry assumed the headache was only making its return appearance because of what he remembered from the last time he talked to the arrogant one. He tried to avoid looking at the pale one in the middle by looking at the, for lack of a better term, bodyguards on either side of him.

Draco noted the stares. "Oh, this is Crabbe, and this is Goyle." He stated, gesturing to the large thugs on either side of him. "And I'm Malfoy, Draco Malfoy." He smirked casually until Weasley 'coughed.' He whipped his head to look at the other occupant of the compartment. "Think my name's funny, do you?" He sneered. "No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children then they can afford." He smirked at the scoff that erupted from that vile red head's mouth. Turning back to Harry, he began again. "You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there." He extended his hand, smirking again.

Harry stared at the hand. Despite his head pounding, he kept his cool, calm, and collected demeanor as his glance roved up and down the pale blonde. His voice caressed his harsh words like silk over an iron bar. "I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks." He shrugged at the hand.

Malfoy's mind went racing. 'How _dare_ he ignore me. Wait till my father hears about this….' He bit out insults instead, fighting the pounding and rushing noises in his head. What he said next was a blur, fudged by the rage, and the next thing he remembered was being back in his compartment, listening to Goyle simper on about how he was going to kill the damn rat the next time he encountered it.

His head no longer throbbed, but he could feel the heat in his cheeks. He figured it must be from the anger, there couldn't be anything else. He wouldn't be embarrassed, no. That wasn't an emotion a Malfoy should ever have to experience. And it was one he wouldn't. He would not be shamed by this boy, even if he felt he had never been so insulted in his life. Raking a hand through his long, blonde locks, Draco stared out the window, face fixed with a scowl. Somehow, that blow had hurt worse than if Harry had actually hit him. 'Just you wait, Potter. You may have hit me once, but I'll most certainly hit you back. You better be ready, because I won't be the one to bow down to you because you're the 'boy-who-lived.' I'll make that life a hell, as you've just made mine.'


	2. I hit you back

A/N: Sorry about the wait! I wanted this up last Saturday, but life and "research" for this chapter got in the way. My sincerest apologies.

Obligatory disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, no matter how much I would like to. Things might be different if it was otherwise...  
And without further ado, on with the story!

* * *

Kiss With A Fist  
-2-  
I hit you back

"_And my running feet could fly  
__Each breath screaming  
_'_We are all too young to die__.'"  
__-Between Two Lungs ~Florence and the Machine_

The next few years did not pass without incident. The boys hated each other, Malfoy had sworn his revenge on Potter, and Harry, unable to accept defeat from the hand of the pale boy, had accepted without much thought.

In the first year afterwards, Malfoy had fooled Harry into believing they would fight, when he had really sent Filch in his place. He spied on the 'Golden Trio' when they went to Hagrid's, as well, unable to get Harry out of his mind and chalking it up to the anger at being rejected. They served detention together for that night, Harry, Hermione, Draco and Neville all getting stuck helping Hagrid in the Forbidden Forest, and Draco couldn't help but be antsy, stuck in the dark, creepy Forest with only Harry and that overgrown dog.

In the second year after they met, they refused to let the summer apart dull the feelings that coursed through their bodies and struck up their arguments even before school could get started. Potter was, of course, being glorified by the Prophet and that stupid prick, Keyheart? No, Lockheart. That was it. Draco refused to allow Harry leave without first talking to him, trying to assuage that throbbing in his head as only fighting with Harry could. He knew that he needed to get more ways to get to Harry; his old methods were beginning to become old and troublesome. Draco bribed his way onto the Quidditch Team, using his new position as seeker to taunt Harry even more. Things got even better when they were selected by Snape to duel. He felt a small tremor go through him as Harry had uttered "You wish." Again, he chalked it up to anger, what else was a twelve year old boy to do?

Third year was the year he realized he seemed to be the only one with the ability to get under Harry's skin. It was especially noticeable when Harry had fainted on the train. Oh, that had been rich, full of mockery that he could continue with for the rest of the years he knew him. Even getting off the train, he began, and as he was picking up steam, increasing his viciousness as the pounding in his head intensified, he was cut off by Lupin. It was far easier to incite him about Sirius Black, though, especially when Lupin wasn't around. He felt fantastic when Harry reacted well as he was informed that Sirius had killed his parents. Even better might have been the dementors making Harry fall again. Draco had tried to make him lose another match, one not against Slytherin, dressing as them, but instead felt the immense strength of Harry's patronus charm. The only consolation was teasing him about adding a parachute to his broom, countered by Harry with the fact that Draco was always struggling to catch a snitch and maybe he should get a pair of arms on _his_ broom. It was even worse for Draco when he was insulting the Mudblood and Blood Traitor and was attacked, along with Crabbe and Goyle, by some invisible force. It was only when Harry's head appeared out of nowhere did he realize who had done it and he became even more irritable. It seemed that that couldn't be the end of it, though. No, he had to get slapped by Granger.

Fourth year was kicked off with the Quidditch World Cup. He had not expected to see Harry there, much less have to share the _Top Box_ with him. He couldn't even escape him when the Death Eaters had begun their attack on the people at the World Cup. But, it was then that he realized that maybe he didn't want to. By the time they got to Hogwarts, the paper had begun to show signs of falling apart, blaming Arthur Weasley. It was too easy for him to mock the Weasleys, and he was doing a fine job until Harry insulted his mother and Moody turned him into a ferret. He would never mock transfiguration again; it most certainly _was_ a frightening thing. The best bit about that year would have to have been Krum. Viktor had chosen to befriend him first, and that was a victory even if Harry hadn't been jealous. And that's what he realized he wanted. Not just anger anymore, he wanted any attention from Harry. He used everything he could to get at Harry, even going to the press. He helped Rita Skeeter all year, giving her information, feeding her lies, just to get under Harry's skin as only he could.

Fifth year was by far the best year to irritate Harry. Having been elected a prefect, it would be easier to get at Harry, even if it was in the way he realized he no longer wanted. By this point it was just a routine, and he couldn't give it up. He tormented Harry on the train, he thought he had recognized the dog that had been there as that escapee, Black. Hagrid became another of his favorite topics and once Ron ended up on the Gryffindor team, he began the song Weasley is our King, not only to irk the redhead, but to get the attention of said redhead's best friend. He even joined the Inquisitorial Squad that Umbridge had set up. Despite the fact that she may have been the most idiotic woman he had ever met, he played everything up to get on her good side and get even more special privileges to use on the Golden Trio. He even got to take Harry's wand, wishing to allow his hand to linger in the pocket of his robes for far longer than what would be acceptable. Instead, he settled for being able to hold Harry's source of power. It felt fantastic to watch Harry glare at him as he tossed the wand up and down, catching it one-handed over and over. The most infuriating yet relieving, part of his fifth year was his father getting put in Azkaban, and it was all Potter's fault. He yelled at him, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, but some small part of him refused to let him draw his wand against Harry. It was only on the Hogwarts express on the way home that he attempted to hex him, and even then, Potter's group was there to defend their Saint.

Sixth year seemed to pass without much conflict with Harry. Of course, their usual incident in Diagon Alley could not be avoided, as they met once more in Madame Malkin's shop. Excited that he would be working for the Dark Lord, he avoided Harry as much as possible that year, save the incident on the train where Harry tried spying on him. It took Harry much longer to retaliate, and when he did, it was in a way that caused Draco so much pain he thought he should have died. Draco still managed to recover quickly, and get right back to work, he couldn't fail Voldemort. It was hard, though, to kill Dumbledore. Much harder than he would have expected, even when there were people watching and willing to help him. Harry had watched from where he was stuck, pitying Draco for the task he was assigned, and watching with immense trouble as Draco struggled to do what he had to to survive the Dark Lord's wrath.

Their seventh year, neither of them attended Hogwarts. Draco was staying home with his mother and freshly freed father, playing host to Voldemort. He was terrified of the creature that he was serving under obligation to his family. Even when he wasn't there, Draco never truly felt free of his grip, as his father was still trying to make things up to You-Know-Who, acting extremely unlike the Malfoy image he had tried so hard to protect and force upon Draco. He had known instantly when Harry, Hermione, and Ron had been brought to the Manor who they were, but he refused to tell his parents and the Snatchers, for fear that they would call the Dark Lord back again. When they called him back anyways, he had trembled in fear, and known that they would be punished as the Golden Trio and all their other captives escaped. He hadn't even cared much that he had lost his wand, even if it had been to Harry, it wouldn't have mattered. The next time he saw Harry, it had been in the Room of Requirement back at Hogwarts, the night of the final battle of the war. He had managed to be a little angry about Harry having his wand, but some small part of him appreciated that. That same bit appreciated that they could still quarrel like they were young, and a war was not waging outside that room, and people weren't dying. It wasn't until Crabbe had tried actually killing Harry that he got really angry. He vaguely remembered yelling "DON'T KILL HIM!" at some point, but he only really remembered climbing onto the broom with Harry, riding it out of the room to safety and reveling in the security of the lean boy in front of him. This is what he had wanted, being with Harry and not yelling at each other. It was only after they escaped the room that he could realize that Crabbe was dead, he wasn't coming back, and the only thing he could think was: We're too young, too young to do this. The rest of the night became a haze of death and violence and darkness, and he remembered being saved by Weasley, Potter, and Granger once more. He had felt a sick, wrenching feeling in his gut when he heard Harry was dead, and became strangely elated when he saw that Harry had cheated death once more. He watched as Harry and Voldemort dueled, watched as the curse that Voldemort had cast hit himself, and watched as he hit the floor, dead. After the battle, he had managed to find a quiet place to sit with his parents, hoping that no one would really bother them. He couldn't help but look at the bodies of the dead, couldn't help but think that they were too young, and couldn't help but feel relieved that Harry had made it out, if only to be able to go back to what they were before this mess, to keep something the same and not as terrible as it had been that night.

When they returned for an "eighth" year, things were going to be different. Draco swore that he would be more civil to Harry, now that he didn't have the pressure of fighting against him. Things would finally go right for Draco, and he could get close to Harry without having to fight him. Of course, things never worked out the way he wanted them to…

* * *

A/N: Alrighty! I plan to be more regular about this. The next chapter will hopefully be up next Saturday, give or take a day due to life/school. And my beta getting her part done a lot faster when I'm talking to her about it and she still hasn't done it...ahem.  
I've also been asked to post this information, so here you are:

Basically you get to live out your life in Hogwarts as a student as teachers are filled up right now.. and the site is BRAND NEW. It just started a few days ago, we NEED students and I thought that I would advertise on fanfiction since there is a large HP fanbase. To tell you the truth, We've got 30 members so far, But maybe you can help by joining or at least helping spread the word.

In an OoC realm our small community that we gather basically gets to know each  
other, we send each other snailmail, and we skype (at all hours of the night),  
and we have loads of fun.

The site is: hogwarts fc dot foru motion dot com without spaces and change  
dots to .

Thanks for sticking with me!  
Until next time,  
Nic


	3. You gave a kick, I gave a slap

A/N: Hi! I'm back! I know it's been a while, and I'm really sorry, but without further ado, I'd like you to read the story! I'll explain more at the end.

* * *

Kiss With A Fist

-3-

You gave a kick, I gave a slap

"_No more dreaming of the dead_

_As if death itself was undone_

_No more calling like a crow for a boy, _

_For a body in the garden."_

_-Blinding ~ Florence and the Machine_

Harry looked out the window on the Hogwarts Express. The rain that drizzled down was reflective of his brooding mood, the same one he had been in after the final battle. He had watched so many people die, and he had seen their faces drain of life. He had watched families grieve and curse, not his name, but Voldemort. Tom Riddle. The man he had killed. Yes, Harry was still viewed as their savior, but he couldn't believe it himself, couldn't help but let their praise tear him apart inside. He had destroyed families, lost every parental figure he had known and even those he hadn't, and it was all Voldemort's fault. No, Riddle's fault. He reminded himself that even in the end Voldemort had been a mortal just like every other victim of their silly war. As the life had faded from Tom's eyes, Harry had watched, seeing pain and fear in them. That was when Harry accepted the burden of the casualties. He blamed himself for the loss of every soul in the war, even those which were to be taken by the dementors from the accused death eaters. With this guilt he had shouldered, he had distanced himself from everyone around him. He noticed it slowly happening, and he noticed it even more now.  
Harry watched out the window as the train streaked through the countryside. Hermione, Ron, Neville and Ginny were discussing something avidly. He couldn't bring himself to be in the conversation, it was just one more thing he had to bother putting effort into. His friends had seemed to notice the change in him, though, and despite efforts to keep him in the flow of things; he still managed to push them all away. Luna sat in her corner, reading the Quibbler, somehow managing to focus on it in the chaos that was their train compartment. Hermione and Neville both had gone back to finish their studies- Hermione loved the experience of school and Neville needed the NEWTs results for Herbology to continue in his planned career. Ron had gone back with Hermione; they had become almost completely inseparable after the Final Battle. Harry had gone back with them for something to do, although he doubted he would actually pay attention much throughout the year.

In other locations along the train, you could find a few of the old seventh years coming back and among all occupants, it was clear where friends had died. Dennis Creevey had become less upbeat, although he had become an avid photographer, something small he did to remind himself of his older brother. The group of girls that had enjoyed the presence of Lavender had lost not only Ms. Brown, but also both of the Patil twins, their parents having pulled them out of school to remain at home. Even Goyle had looked even more lost and confused than usual after Crabbe died, following Draco in a daze.

Draco, on the other hand, was almost even more excited about this year than usual. His father would no longer be pushing him into Dark Arts; he found he didn't like it after being confronted with the issue of having to kill Dumbledore. Actually, his father was put into Azkaban, which wasn't precisely a good or bad thing. It just was. For his mother, it was rougher, simply because she was suddenly alone at the manor. It was a good thing that she had many other wives of Death Eaters that she would spend time with, even now that the Malfoy name had been sullied by the trial. It was also good for his attempts at a love life. Draco had realized that he wouldn't be ready to live up to the family name and produce more heirs after he had caught himself staring at males, not females, at the Yule Ball fourth year. Noting that he was gay was not something Lucius would have approved of, and something Narcissa still didn't quite agree with, but it did wonders for his already impeccable taste in fashion.

When the train arrived at the Hogsmeade station, prefects ushered the children off and into the waiting care of Hagrid, who would take them into the school via the lake. Many repairs had been done over the summer, wards had been replaced, and although the castle was not back to its former state, it was in much better repair than many had thought after the battle. As the first years sailed across the lake, the upperclassmen rode in on the "self-drawn" carriages. Many gasps could be heard as people saw the thestrals that were actually pulling the covered carriages. Many people stared in wonder while others cringed in fright. Harry, though, stared at the ground. He watched as the water poured into it from the unrelenting sky. And he thought about worms. He remembered watching them come out of the ground in torrents to escape the water pouring into their homes when Aunt Petunia locked him out. He watched as they drowned slowly, above ground and not in puddles. He wondered if they died easy that way, if it hurt. Maybe he could try it. Maybe it would work. He would welcome death, it had been warm and comfortable, not in the way that a fire and a mug of hot chocolate could be on a cold winter's day, but in the way that he imagined a mother's hug could be, the way that he felt when Sirius had hugged him at Grimmauld Place after the Order meeting.

It was a call from Hermione that snapped him out of his thoughts. She and the others were staring at him from inside their carriage. He climbed in and shut the door behind himself, hoping that was what they expected of him. Hermione gave him a small smile and cast a quick drying and warming charm on the occupants of the carriage. The rest of the ride was spent in silence as they approached the grounds that were heavily bloodied only four months before. Each of the occupants mourned their losses privately, giving Harry a real opportunity to blend in with his dulled attitudes and numb mind. Hermione cast an impervious charm on their robes, protecting them from the rain as they made their way into the castle. They made their way inside, saying goodbye to Luna as she parted from them to make her way to the Ravenclaw table. The rest made themselves comfortable at the Gryffindor table, sparking up conversations with others that they had lost contact with in the months after the Battle. Harry remained silent.

Draco looked over at the Gryffindor table. His "friends" had seemed to have taken less of a liking to him, now that his father had gotten off with only a sentence in Azkaban. Draco seemed to be oblivious to the glares sent in his direction, or the whispered conversations around him that mentioned his name. He still had an ally in Goyle, though, and Blaise and Pansy didn't seem to mind being around him either. Flanked by them, he didn't bother to hide his stares at one Harry Potter. He seemed to be the only one at that table who wasn't smiling, wasn't trying to forget. Even from where he was sitting, he couldn't see any fire in those eyes, no flash of light to show Draco that Harry was still there, still fighting. Draco frowned slightly, he would have to get Potter to show some semblance of recognition that he was in the present before propositioning a friendship between the two of them yet again. With the way things were looking, though, he was finding that it might be harder than he thought. Not even the weaselette was able to hold his attention for long. He would turn to her as she tried talking to him, give a slight nod or shake of his head, and resume staring at his plate and eating in a mechanical manner.

Professor McGonagall had been named Headmistress of Hogwarts and gave a more coherent speech than Dumbledore had given in the six years he had remembered. As soon as they were dismissed, Harry had gotten up and slumped out of the Great Hall, feet trudging in a manner that was the complete opposite of what Potter had displayed in his years at Hogwarts. A week had managed to pass in much the same way. No real reaction, no real emotion, could be seen from Potter. Even his closest friends were unable to get anything out of him except a few, brief responses and it was very seldom that they were words. It was only after Potter had been accidentally knocked into at dinner by a wildly gesturing Seamus Finnigan only to fall to the ground and get back up, no emotion visible on his face, did Draco decide what to do.

The next day in class, he began treating Harry in the same manner he had done for many years of his life. He made quick snipes, insults that should drive Harry crazy.  
"Hey, scarhead! How's that mutt of yours doing? You know, the one from fifth year on the platform? Haven't seen it in a while."  
"Potter! Have a nice holiday with mum and dad? Oh, that's right. Don't have any, do you?"  
"Oi, Potter! See you've given up quidditch! Finally realize you're not a match for me?"  
"Hey, Potter! Where's your little girlfriend to defend you now?"  
"Potter. Still can't manage to brew a potion properly? How pathetic. How'd you get into this class in the first place?"  
"Look at Potter now. He couldn't even transfigure a feather into a quill!"

Harry, however, did not react. His friend would be quick to jump to his defense, pushing Harry away from Malfoy and glaring at him or coming up with some ridiculous prank to get back at Draco, or at least get him into trouble. No matter how hard Draco tried, though, he just couldn't get anything out of Harry. Instead of just being nonchalant about it, as he tried in the first place, he couldn't help but be consumed by his attempts to get a rise out of Harry, soon ignoring the other "eighth years" who were around him in favour of figuring out something that would get Harry to react. He could be found brooding outside of class: in the library, in the great hall, even wandering the grounds. Sometimes, he could even be found to be brooding in class, usually those without Harry in them, quickly covering up the fact that he wasn't paying attention whenever the teachers tried to call on him or giving him a detention. Blaise and Pansy had saved him from punishments a great many times, and in return he seemed to only ignore them further.

It was only a week later when it seemed that Draco would be finally giving up. None of his attempts seemed to be getting through to Harry, only infuriating Granger and the Weasleys and even Longbottom, Thomas, and Finnigan, which was amusing, but not what he had wanted. Draco glared at Harry from across the Hall at dinner on the Friday night a week after returning. Harry seemed to be pushing his food around his plate listlessly whilst the other Gryffindors laughed and chatted amicably over him, not really noticing he was there anymore. The stares that he had received at the beginning of the year had died down along with the whispers and excited chatter that some of the first years had begun, all of them excited to know that they'd be going to school with the one and only Harry Potter, the Boy who Lived to Save us all. Upon seeing him, however, many found themselves to be disappointed, and it was clear to Draco why that had happened. Harry just would not react to anything he said, anything he did.

Harry decided that he didn't want any more to eat, nor did his body physically need anything else to keep him functioning properly and shoved his plate away from him. Hermione wouldn't be able to mother him into eating anymore, as he had eaten the majority of the food that was on his plate. He stood up slowly, slipping his legs out from the benches and heading out the doors to the Great Hall almost unnoticed. He had not stayed for any announcements from McGonagall or any of the other professors, but he wasn't worried. If it was anything too important, he would be told by Ron or would hear it from the other boys in his dorm in the worst-case scenario. However, his sudden absence was noted by Draco, having gotten called into another conversation while Harry exited the hall. Draco decided that he would have to chase Harry, make his insults personal, in order to garner the right results.

Draco all but jumped out of his seat and stalked out of the Great Hall, muttering excuses for his sudden departure that fell on ears of people who didn't really care. He hurried after Harry in a manner that would be considered unbefitting of a Malfoy had anyone seen and only slowed when he was a short distance behind the other boy. He straightened his clothes and fussed with his hair before coughing lightly. Harry only seemed to not hear anything and continued up the stairs to the next platform, waiting on the next upward staircase to move into place. Draco scowled. He coughed again, finding himself ignored once more. Glaring at Harry's back, he snapped out, "Potter!"

Harry whirled around. Having been trapped in his thoughts, he hadn't noticed anyone behind him, let alone anyone trying to get his attention. He glanced over Malfoy's appearance, barely noting that the boy looked a little more disheveled than usual and the pounding in his head was beginning again, something that hadn't really happened in a long while, at least not since May. "What do you want, Malfoy?" His voice sounded flat, even to his own ears, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

Draco faltered for a moment. It wasn't as if he could really explain to Harry why he had followed the boy out, he wasn't entirely sure in the first place, but he had done it anyways and now when confronted with the question, he didn't know what to say. Before he realized he was speaking, though, words tumbled from his mouth. "No one insults a Malfoy and gets away with it, especially not precious Potter. And don't say that you haven't insulted me, ignoring me counts as an insult as well." He sneered at the dark-haired boy who simply stared back in return. Malfoy waited a moment until he realized that he'd be getting no response from Potter after all. He scowled again at Harry before speaking again. "What, suddenly I'm not worth a response from you? The precious savior of the wizarding world can't be bothered to say anything to his rival of eight years? Am I not famous enough for you? Because I can assure you that although I'm not _as_ widely feared as the dark lord, I am still a well-known name." Silence. "Fine then, Potter, since you can't be bothered to _speak_ to me, perhaps you'll duel with me? I'm sure we can find a nice classroom that will do if you don't want to get caught performing magic in the halls." More silence. Draco was becoming enraged. It took most of his self-restraint to keep from shouting at Potter right there where anyone could see. "What? Can't even be bothered to duel me without an audience? Oh, I know, it's the fact that you won't have anyone to save this time, no one else to protect like you 'protected' Justin, the idiot Hufflepuff, in second year. Or is it because you don't have another threat looming over your stupid mudblood friend and the blood traitors?" Draco smirked, thinking for sure he could get something from Potter this time.

Again, Draco was met with silence. Draco's eyes narrowed as he scowled once more and threw his hands up in the air, exasperated. "Fuck, Potter, you're not even worth it anymore!" He exclaimed, turning and beginning to storm away down the set of stairs and towards the dungeons. It was then that he finally got the goal he was so desperately trying to achieve. In a small voice, Harry managed to choke out a response. "I know."

* * *

A/N: Hello again. I can't apologise enough for my absence. I've been so busy with everything. April was crazy with Chamber Trip, then repacking and Spring break in England. When I came back in May, I was super busy prepping for concerts and finals, all of which reared their ugly heads in June. After finals was graduation things (although I did not graduate, I was still highly involved) and then immediately after that was surgery, putting me out of commission for a week. I started class again at the college shortly after that, and marching band season has begun once more, making me busy all the time. I'm sorry again, but the chapter is here now, and I hope you like it! The next chapter is already well underway, and should be out shortly. (I hope!)


End file.
